


Use Somebody

by voguethranduil



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flowershops, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Romance, Smut, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and so is warren's dad, angel has a cameo!, caliban is really just a background character, honestly i love warren he owns this ass, jean and kurt own their own bakery how cute!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voguethranduil/pseuds/voguethranduil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You want to be angry at Jean and Kurt for selling their place to a tattoo shop. You want to be angry that this certainly won’t be good for business, but when the blond guy you are so blatantly checking out meets your gaze and curls his lips into a small smile and fucking nods — all bad blood towards Jean and Kurt seem to instantly dissipate - instead, turning to undeniable gratefulness.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>aka, the tattoo/florist au no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! it's been a while since i've written an ACTUAL fic! i want to dedicate this fic to [alex](pagemaximoff.tumblr.com), who wrote [these](http://kurtwxgners.tumblr.com/post/146687814951/pagemaximoff-floristtattoo-artist-au-based-off) AWESOME headcanons about this trope a while back! (this fic is highly inspired by them!)
> 
> and i know warren may or may not be a little ooc, but in this universe; he's a softie, but _does_ have some emotional baggage that will be revealed in later chapters!!
> 
> i'm not sure how long this fic will be, but i'm excited to share this with you guys! i'm a little worried that i lost myself halfway through this chapter, so feedback would be great!! enjoy, loves!

“ _C’mon, you can’t be mad at us forever!”_ Jean states over the phone, as you mouth a ‘thank you’ to the barista, picking up your drink. “ _Kurt and I just needed a bigger space, that’s all!”_

“I’m not _mad_ at you guys! I’m just not-so-thrilled that I won’t be able to get my apple muffins every morning now!” You explain with a laugh, starting the down the sidewalk, towards your shop. Jean laughs in response. “Plus, I’ll miss having my best friends running their bakery right next to me. We were the dream team, Grey!”

“ _Don’t worry! I can guarantee you, that you’re going to get a free muffin every time you come in,”_ Jean adds, as you cross the street. “ _and thanks for the cherry blossoms! Kurt guessed that they symbolized friendship, but I thought they meant happiness. Care to enlighten us?”_

“Good guesses! But, cherry blossoms symbolize new beginnings.” You correct with a laugh.

“ _Damn, you and your flowers are the cutest things ever.”_ Jean says happily.

“By the way, did you ever meet the people that were buying out the building?” You ask with curiosity. Jean just gives you a nervous laugh in response, which makes your heart flutter a bit, because, _what in the hell_ is that supposed to mean?! “Jean, that doesn’t sound promising!”

 _“Just don’t get mad, or scared!”_ She quickly answers, as you approach the street your shop is on. You can make out a huge truck parked in front of Jean and Kurt’s old place, but the closer you get — the more you can feel the anxiety bubble in your chest. The truck reads ‘FOUR HORSEMEN TATTOO  & PIERCINGS,’ and the bass from the radio that is playing Metallica is pretty much reverberating through the quiet of the street.

“ _I know you hate change, but they’re really nice—“_ Jean begins to explain, only to have you cut her off.

“Grey, I’m going to kick your _ass.”_

There’s a split second where you start to listen to Jean ramble out apologies and explanations, but her voice is slowly turned to static when you watch two guys exit the car, boxes in hand. The first guy has his light brown hair tied into a small bun at the base of his neck; thanks to the muscle tank he’s wearing, his tattoos are exposed — and from what you can tell, they cover pretty much the entirety of his arms.

The next guy that hops out of the car, nearly makes the wind knock out of you. You’ve never been one for the whole ‘tattoos and leather jacket’ type, but the second you lay eyes on _him —_ it makes you want to revaluate everything you’ve ever known.

The first thing you notice about him is the blue, symmetrical tattoos that adorn his face. (You’re not one to know much about tattoos, but getting tattoos on your fucking face probably takes a high pain tolerance!) His blond mohawk is disheveled in such a way that only he could _possibly_ pull off, and even though he’s wearing a leather jacket, you can only guess that by the tattoos on his fingers that he’s got plenty of more where that came from.

You want to be angry at Jean and Kurt for selling their place to a tattoo shop. You want to be angry that this certainly _won’t_ be good for business, but when the blond guy you are so _blatantly_ checking out meets your gaze and curls his lips into a small smile and fucking _nods —_ all bad blood towards Jean and Kurt dissipate.

“ _Did you even listen to anything I just said?”_ Jean asks, snapping you out of your trance. You give a shy wave to the blondie before crossing the street to your shop, kicking yourself for being so _awkward._

“I did, but…” you start, giving a flustered laugh as you fumble with the keys to the door.

“ _I take it you saw them, hmm?”_ She giggles, tone suggestive. You can practically see her eyebrows wiggling. “ _The brown haired one is cute, but the blond definitely has got these bad boy vibes I can dig!”_

“Well, I’d love to keep chatting,” you quip back, opening the door. “but I just got an order for a ‘welcome’ bouquet, that needs to be taken care of immediately!”

Jean just snickers, and says,

“ _Let’s hope those boys like flower symbolism!”_

* * *

 

Over the next few days, you feel like a fucking _school girl._ Every day when you get to work, the boys are there; playing their music and working on moving their tattoo gear in, and painting the windows with their logo. And it doesn’t help that the blond one (you HAVE to find out his name, you can’t keep calling him ‘the blond one’ forever!) _always_ gives you a small smile when he sees you.

So on the day their shop officially opens, you take it upon yourself to formally introduce yourself to your new neighbors.

Clutching a bouquet of peonies (for prosperity) and apple blossoms (for good fortune) you put together, you take a deep breath before making the short trip next door. Your heart is pretty much ramming itself out of your ribcage as you open up the door to their parlor, the fresh smell of paint mixed with a hint of cologne invades your senses; a tiny bell sounding as you open the door.

The blond, who is sitting at the front desk, looks up from the papers that he’s working on — and holy _fuck,_ you thought he was attractive from far away, but up close; he’s pretty much the most attractive person you’ve ever seen. It takes everything you’ve got to not drop the flowers and run out of the shop, when he gives you a lopsided smile and stands up.

“Hi!” He says cheerfully, moving around the counter to properly greet you. “I take it you're our new neighbor?”

He sticks his hand out for you to shake, and you take his hand in yours. (His hands are soft!) He tells you his name, Warren, and you smile to yourself — you can _finally_ stop calling him ‘the blond!’

“Yeah, I am!” You answer, giving him your name. “I just dropped by to welcome you to the neighborhood, and to give you guys a little welcome gift,” you manage to tell him, holding out the peonies and apple blossoms. “peonies represent prosperity, and apple blossoms represent good fortune.” You explain to him, as he brings them to his nose to inhale their scent.

“This is awesome, thank you!” He says, moving behind the counter. “Here, follow me. I’ll put these in the office, and you can meet some of the other guys.”

You follow Warren into the back office (this guy even has a tattoo on the back of his neck, it’s like he’s _trying_ to make you collapse!) where the walls are painted a deep red, drawings of beautiful tattoos hung in frames on the wall. Sitting behind the desk is the brown-haired guy you saw on the first day, and on the black couch, is a guy that looks like a younger version of the brown-haired guy. When you and Warren enter the office, they both give you wide smiles.

“Hey guys, this is our new neighbor!” He introduces you, setting down the bouquet on the desk. “This is Alex, aka my fellow co-owner.”

Alex sits up and shakes your hand with a firm grip, lips curling into a friendly smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, finally,” Alex says, moving to sit back down. “we’ve been meaning to make a pit stop at your shop for a while!”

“Well, looks like I beat you guys to it!” You reply, causing him to chuckle.

Warren turns to the younger boy on the couch, who’s up to shake your hand as well.

“This is Scott, Alex’s brother,” Warren introduces, as Scott gives you a friendly nod. “much to Alex’s objections, Scott needed a Summer job to help pay for college.” Warren jokes, causing Scott to chuckle.

“Don’t listen to these goons,” Scott tells you with a laugh. “I just needed some extra cash, and a discount for tattoos.”

“Hey, I’m not judging!” You joke, raising your hands. “I’m not going to lie, I was a little daunted when I first saw you guys.”

Warren laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“Aww, c’mon, was it the facial tattoos?” He jokes, as Alex chuckles. “Or was it Alex’s ponytail?”

At that, Alex chucks a pen at him, causing you to laugh.

“No, it’s just that you guys bought out my friends bakery!” You state, pulling your purse strap higher onto your shoulder. “And a tattoo parlor is just a _teensy_ bit different from a bakery.”

At this, Warren throws his head back with a soft laugh — and it nearly takes your breath away, because who looks _that_ good when they laugh?!

“Well, we might not be able to bake, but we can provide you with a solid friendship, and a discounted tattoo!” Warren says, which makes your heart falter because _holy shit,_ he wants to be your friend!

“I think I’ll pass on the tattoo, but the friendship part I’ll take!” You say with a smile. “It was really nice meeting you guys, I’d love to stay and talk more, but the flowers don’t water themselves!”

Alex and Scott wave goodbye, as Warren follows you out of the office and into the front lobby. Turning towards Warren, you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Again, thank you for the flowers!” Warren says once more, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nah, flowers are my thing!” You say with a smile, waving your hand. “And if you’re ever slow and need some entertainment, feel free to drop in. It gets a little boring over there, too.”

Warren gives you his lopsided smile once more, before he says,

“I’ll take you up on that offer, after all, I’m not one to deny a pretty girl!”

If you thought you weren’t screwed enough, when he calls you that, you know you’re absolutely _fucked._

* * *

 

As Warren watches you leave, he pulls his hands out of his pockets — when did they get so clammy? — and makes his way back to the office, where Alex just looks at him with raised brows and a smirk on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Warren asks, plopping down next to Scott, who just lets out a laugh, as if it was obvious.

“Dude, I’m surprised you played it cool!” Alex laughs, as Warren rolls his eyes; ignoring the blush that comes to his cheeks. “You’ve been talking about wanting to meet her for days!”

“Shut up,” Warren murmurs, as Scott nudges him in the ribcage.

“He’s blushing!” Scott points out, sending Alex into hysterics. “Does Worthington _finally_ have a crush on a girl?!”

“I barely know her!” Warren defends, as Scott laughs. “I mean she’s cute, but I bet you, she has a boyfriend!”

“Shut up, man,” Alex responds, sitting up and stretching. “have a little hope! You deserve a chick like her, after all the shit you’ve been through.” He adds.

Warren sighs in agreement, at Alex’s comment. Warren _hates_ it when people give him pity, but he hates it even _more_ when he has to show his emotions. So Warren just stands up with Alex, and says,

“Let’s get to work, guys. We got some clients coming in a couple minutes!”

As Scott and Alex exit the office, Warren stops and stares at the bouquet of flowers for a moment; feeling his heart skip a beat. It _had_ been a while since he had even thought of a girl in a romantic way; he’d just been one to have one night stands. But there’s something about you that tugs at his heartstrings — and even though he’s only just met you, he already feels like a 16 year old again, wanting the approval and attention of a girl. And even though his senses are telling him to run away and not get hurt, he’s already thinking of possible ways to talk to you.

* * *

 

As the weeks pass by, you find yourself frequenting Warren’s shop after you close up yours.

Yeah, Scott and Alex are funny and quickly become your friend — but there’s something comforting and genuine about Warren, that makes your heart do a little dance whenever you’re around him. His exterior makes him seem hardheaded and no good, but he’s actually the _complete_ opposite of that.

He’s actually soft-spoken and has his own sense of humor that just _works_ for him. And not to mention, he’s an _extremely_ talented artist! You’ve watched him on multiple occasions whilst he’s tattooing a client, and it’s enthralling to watch him make intricate and complex tattoos. (He’s still trying to convince you to let him give you your first tattoo, with promises of discounts — but no matter how many times you tell him that you’re indecisive, he still persists!)

Needless to say, you’ve surpassed the attraction towards him; and turned that attraction into a crush. There’s just something in the way he carries himself in such a humble light, that makes you weak in the knees for him. (And his looks are only a _bonus,_ if anything. The blue tattoos that embellish his face have grown on you, and his sense of style only adds to that!)

Today, Jean and Kurt decide to make an impromptu stop at your shop before they head out to the bakery to catch up. You nearly jump over the counter when they arrive — scaring your employee half to death — crushing the two of them in hugs. Because of the sweltering heat, you set up a little table outside of the front of your shop under the canopy, where you catch up with the two of them.

“You remember that Maximoff kid from high school, right?” Jean asks, as you happily eat your apple muffin.

“Of course, how could I not?! He’s the one who got suspended for putting the principals car in the gym!” You exclaim, as Kurt laughs at the memory.

“Well, turns out he needed some extra money, and applied to our bakery!” Jean exclaims, as your eyes go big.

“No way, what does he do?!” You ask excitedly.

“He’s our delivery guy!” Kurt adds, as you lean back in your chair.

“I’m gonna have to visit soon, I haven’t seen him in years!” You exclaim.

“On the subject of friends, your neighbors are looking _mighty_ fine today!” Jean points out, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, as she nods towards the tattoo shop. You can already feel your cheeks heat up as you shift to see who she’s point at — and nearly fall out of your chair, at the sight of Warren.

He’s outside washing the windows shirtless, revealing two huge angel wing tattoos on his back, that you never would’ve guessed were there. And it doesn’t help that his sweat makes him fucking _glow_ , making him radiate in all of his glory. Warren’s abs are also something that causes an embarrassed cough to rake through your throat, as Jean and Kurt just chuckle at your flustered demeanor.

“So, what do you think of him?” Jean asks, obviously knowing your answer — asking more to just make you embarrassed.

“He’s cute,” you shrug nonchalantly, picking at the muffin. “we’re friends. I dunno.”

“Aw, looks like our friend here has a crush!” Kurt teases patting your back as Jean giggles.

“ _Shut it,_ Wagner!” You hiss at Kurt, no real venom behind your words. “He could hear!”

Kurt just throws his head back with a laugh, and says,

“Ah, so you _admit_ to it _!”_

You let your face fall into your hands as Jean and Kurt tease you, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. When you look back up, you can’t help but to take another glance at Warren — only to see that he’s mindlessly scrubbing the window, looking at _you._ When you meet his gaze, Warren seems to cough and look away, running a hand through his mohawk. You watch as he backs up and trips over the bucket of water, causing him to tumble. He doesn’t fall, but he steadies himself — looking up to see if you were still looking; which you _were._ You just giggled and gave him a thumbs up, in which he just adorably covered his eyes with one hand, before removing it and laughing.

“Oh god, she’s got it _bad!”_ Jean exclaims, poking your side.

“I can’t help it!” You finally admit, as you swat her hands away. “I mean he’s just so _perfect.”_

As Jean and Kurt begin to relentlessly tease you, notice Scott exit the shop; earbuds in, probably going on his break. He smiles and nods at you as he walks past, but double-takes when he sees Jean. You and Kurt both exchange smirks as Jean notices, cheeks flushing as she gives Scott a wave. Scott looks behind his shoulder one more time before he crosses the road, leaving an acute silence between the three of you.

“Okay, _now_ who’s got it bad?!” You accuse, causing Jean to bury her face in her hands, giggling quietly. “Y’know, I _could_ introduce you!”

“Nuh-uh,” Jean declines. “we’re going to focus on you and Warren, before I get him!”

The rest of their visit is filled with stupid pick up lines (courtesy of Kurt) and possible hangout ideas, but ultimately, you’d be _lying_ if you said you weren’t a little intimidated by Warren. As you absentmindedly start watering the plants in front of the store, you can’t help but to muse over your current situation.

 _Yeah,_ of course he’s a total sweetheart — you know that, but a guy like him? He could get any person he wanted, and it pains you to think of all the other people he’s been with. Warren probably has _tons_ of experience, whilst you’ve had only a couple partners here and there; and the occasional one night stand.

 _No,_ you tell yourself. _Don’t compare yourself. Take a chance. Take a chance._ ** _Take a chance._**

So when you close up shop for the night, you do take a chance. You stop by the donut shop a block away and pick up a dozen donuts and some drinks, before making your way over to the tattoo shop.

The boys cheer when you arrive, happily accepting the donuts and drinks; as Warren throws his arm around your shoulder, causing you to look up at him with a small smile.

“What did we do to deserve a girl like you?” He says, as you wrap your arms around his torso, giving him a playful hug — squeezing him tight.

“Shut up, Warren, you’re making me blush,” you tell him, pulling back. Alex and Scott just let out an ‘aww’ in unison, causing Warren to shake his head with a laugh.

“You guys are too fucking cute,” Alex says, mouth full of a maple bar. “makes me tear up.”

You and Warren just look at each other and burst out in laughter, both pretending to ignore the feeling in your chests at Alex’s comment. For the next hour, Alex and Scott only have one client each left, which meant that (after much begging) Warren sent them home a little earlier than usual. As you’re pulling on your jacket, deciding you should probably head home too, you’re stopped when Warren softly puts his hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to, but would you wanna stick around while I close?” He asks, hesitation in his voice. “You don’t have to, though. I just enjoy you being around, that’s all.”

You have to try and focus on not collapsing and replying, because if you don’t, you might _actually_ pass out and send him running to the hills. So, you slip your jacket off, and say,

“Of course!”

The two of you turn on some music and chat quietly, as Warren cleans the tattoo guns, and scrubs the ink off of some of the chairs.

“So, what got you into tattoos?” You ask suddenly, curiosity getting the best of you.

“I drew a lot when I was a kid,” he shrugs, as he wipes a bead of sweat off of his forehead. “I actually didn’t even get my first tattoo until last year!”

You laugh softly, not expecting that from him.

“What made you get them? I always thought you’d be the type to get one as soon as you hit 18,” you tease, causing Warren to huff out a low chuckle.

“You’re gonna have to buy me a drink first, to know that story!” He huffs with a laugh, voice tentative. You can tell that by the way he slightly tensed up, that there was probably an actual _serious_ story, underneath his cool exterior. You _want_ to get to know Warren — the real Warren — and if doing that means getting slightly drunk, you’re willing to take that chance.

So when he looks at you with a confused look as you tug on your jacket.

“Where are you headed?” He asks, brows furrowed together.

“I’m gonna buy you some drinks!” You say with a smile, as Warren laughs, shaking his head.

“Oh princess, if anything, I’ll be the one buying the drinks,” He says, accepting your hand to stand up. “because after all, if this is your way of asking me out, the _least_ I can do is pay.”

Your jaw drops a little in embarrassment, leaving you lost for words at his statement. But all Warren does is lean down to press a small, curious kiss to your temple, before saying,

“I’m going to grab a clean shirt, and then we’ll go, yeah?”

You just want to grab him by the ink-stained shirt and kiss the _breath_ out of him because you can _barely_ think of anything other than the burning, tingling sensation his lips left on your temple.

So you just nod and give him a small smile, before he takes his leave to get a clean shirt; leaving you thinking, _what did I just get myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

There’s a shitty bar that’s a street down you take him to, it may be old and a the crowd may be a bit sketchy, but you’re assured by Warren that he doesn’t care; as long as he’s in your company, it doesn’t matter where you are.

You take him a little towards the back where there a couple booths, away from the usuals who are already a little buzzed and arguing about the mundane football game displayed on the tv. Warren shrugs off his leather jacket, before leaving to go grab some drinks; promising to be quick. You take this opportunity to shoot a quick text to Jean, peering over your shoulder just to make sure he’s still over there.

_Currently dying, because I’m on a semi-date with Warren!_

It doesn’t even take a full minute for Jean to reply, excitement evident.

**_If you don’t AT LEAST make it to third base, i’ll be VERY disappointed. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter!_ **

You chuckle quietly, face palming yourself at the text.

_We aren’t in high school anymore, I’m sure I can control my hormones! (you didn’t even know me until seventh grade, shithead!)_

**_Quit texting, and hop on that!_ **

As if on cue, you spot Warren in your peripheral vision and shove your phone back in your purse, tucking your hair behind your ears as he sets the drinks down in front of the two of you.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Warren said, making himself comfortable in the booth across from you. “so I hope beer is okay.”

“Beer is fine, thanks!” You affirm, taking a sip. “And besides, I should be the one paying. I was the one who had suggested going out in the first place!”

“No no no,” Warren scoffs, shaking his head with a small smile. “I’m paying, end of discussion.”

You roll your eyes playfully as Warren leans back in the booth, looking at you with a raised brow and the smallest of smirks on his lips. You pick at your cuticles out of habit, looking up at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You quip, curling your fingers around the beer bottle.

“S’just, how did a girl like you end up in a town like this?” Warren asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You huff out a small laugh, bringing the bottle up to your lips. “How did a guy like you end up in a town like this?”

“Pfft, I asked first.” Warren smiles, lightly kicking you under the table.

“To answer your question, I was born and raised,” you start. “never really felt the need to go anywhere. So, I used my experience with flowers to open up shop. And I’ve never been happier, if we’re being honest!”

“You seem like the type of person who appreciates the little things in life, and I gotta say, that only makes you a hundred times better.” Warren compliments, leaning forward to rest his chin on his fist. “Spent a whole lotta time in the big city, and this place, _you,_ it’s a breath of fresh air.”

“What’s so bad about the big city? Thought that’s where people go to chase their dreams.” You ask, causing Warren to chuckle. “What?! I always hear cheesy shit like that on tv!”

“It’s not all what it seems, princess.” Warren jests, but you can see his shoulders tense a little, as he takes a longer-than-normal sip of his drink, the glass hitting the table with a light ‘thud.’

“Aw, c’mon,” you press lightly. “tell me about your life up there!”

“Well, I had always lived there with my dad,” Warren starts, running a hand nervously through his curls. “but y’know… me and my dad never really got on.”

You can tell by the way he’s nervously playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, that obviously he had a pretty rough upbringing; and it does make you feel a little shitty for pressing, so you just rest your hand warily over his, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with your thumb.

“But once I was 18, I got out of there, so I lived pretty good after that.” Warren adds quickly, taking another sip of his drink, to mask the obvious tension in his demeanor. “The rest, you’ll have to get a couple of drinks in me for.”

He winks to punctuate his sentence, which makes you huff out a long awaited laugh — changing the subject.

For the next couple of hours, it feels as if you’ve known Warren your whole life.

You exchange stories of your awkward first kisses to being picked last in gym class, making fun of each other for the stories, and throwing the free bar pretzels at each other whenever you both say a stupid joke. Warren finds out that you look _devastatingly_ beautiful whenever you laugh a little too hard, nose scrunching up and eye’s squeezing shut. Warren also finds out that he could get used to the feeling of your hand in his, absentmindedly tracing his tattoos.

Warren cuts you off from the alcohol after your second bottle, preferring you buzzed rather than getting you drunk. _(C’mon, Warren, just one more!)_

_(You’ll thank me in the morning, princess.)_

Warren has had a little more than three drinks and you can tell that he knows how to hold his alcohol, even if his words are a little slurred.

After you’ve both settled down from learning about Warren’s terrible aunt who _always_ insisted on kissing him on the lips, you both concede to call it a night. Warren stands up and takes his wallet out of his back pocket, slapping down _more_ than enough money to pay. He offers his hand for you to take and you willingly take it, as Warren moves behind your body to place his leather jacket atop your shoulders. You mutter a quick thank you as you slide your arms through the holes, wrapping it around your body as Warren takes his hand in yours once more. ( _Holy mother of god, his cologne smells_ ** _amazing._** _)_

As you walk the distance to yourself, there’s a comfortable silence that envelops the two of you. Warren insisted on walking you home, and you certainly weren’t going to object. So as your hands swing slightly with your pace, the walk is filled with idle chatter; which mainly consists of you pointing up at the stars or Warren laughing at other drunk people stumbling into their ubers.

Whilst walking with Warren, you can’t help but to feel an overwhelming sense of comfort. He’s tall and he looks like he could scare off a thug (which he probably _can)_ but that’s not the case; he’s humble and kind and he’s just _Warren._ He’s the type of guy your mom always warned you about, but you know — you _know_ he’s different.

So when you reach your apartment you invite him inside for a cup of coffee — Warren _knows_ he should leave; he knows he should just kiss you goodnight and _leave_ and maybe take a cold shower. But there’s something in the way you look up at him those deep eyes of yours, that’s _warm_ and _inviting_ that he can’t deny. So he ignores the voice in his head telling him to leave.

Your apartment is exactly what he pictured in his mind; neat, with plenty of plants and flowers scattered fashionably throughout the living room and kitchen. His leather jacket that’s draped over you is a sharp contrast to the light pink of your walls, and he can’t help but to chuckle quietly at the image; you humming to yourself quietly as you make coffee, the jacket sleeves being pushed up to your elbows.

It’s not long before you’re side by side each other on the couch; your knees pulled up to your chest as you sip your coffee, Warren’s arm resting on the backside of the couch. You chat idly about little things, like Alex & Scott and your flowers scattered across your apartment.

When your gaze drops down to Warren’s fingers curved in the handle of the coffeecup, you remember the whole reason as to _why_ you invited him out in the first place. He watches you intently as you take his half empty cup and place them both on the coffee table, then moving to take his fingers in yours.

He sighs softly as your thumbs brush over the faded black and red ink over his knuckles, watching you read them quietly to yourself.

“Free Bird,” you mutter aloud, thumbs still brushing over the ink. “what’s the story behind that?”

“It’s… it’s…” he stutters for a moment, trying to find the right words. “it’s a long story.”

“Good thing I’ve got time.” You respond, a comforting smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Y’know how I moved out when I was 18, right?” He asks, earning a nod from you. “Well, let’s just say finding a place in the city was pretty tough, when you didn’t have much money.”

Warren already looks a little stressed out just at the beginning of the story, so you don’t really stop yourself when you cuddle into him closer; softly putting your legs atop his lap, still holding on to his hands. Warren just wraps his arm around your shoulders, fingers nimbly playing the the studs on the shoulders of his leather jacket. It’s a small gesture, but Warren appreciates it more than you know.

“Finding work was pretty rough, ‘cause no one wanted an 18 year old kid working for them. Soon, I got… I got pretty desperate,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing them with his knuckles. “When I was 20 and pretty much homeless, I got… I got involved in the wrong crowd. Like I said, I needed money for a place. So, I sorta joined this… this….” he tries to explain, racking through his brain to find the right words. “….underground fighting ring. I was ’employed’ under this dude named Caliban.” Warren uses air quotations, to further his point.

“I would pretty much get paid to fight, and I’m talking _mad_ amounts.”

You don’t really notice the sharp intake of air you take at his statement, because it sure as hell didn’t sound _legal._ But Warren continues on, seeing the eagerness in your eyes.

“And I was _good._ I beat a lot of the undefeated guys. They started calling me ‘Angel,’ because I looked like a kid.” The laugh he lets out is almost _pained,_ as if the _name_ was enough to give him anxiety. He lets go of your hand to tug down the collar of his shirt, to reveal the nickname tattooed on his collarbone. You lean forward a little to examine the tattoo; and it looked as if it was more of a stick and poke, rather than professionally done. He let go of his shirt, covering it back up, before reaching back to take your hands in his.

“But y’know, getting in that crowd — it does shit to you,” Warren continues, moving his fingers back to thumb at the studs on the jacket. “I got involved with drugs, which led to a majority of my tattoos, especially these guys.” He traces the blue, symmetrical tattoos that embellished his face. “I thought it made me look more tough, more, I dunno — _badass,_ I guess.”

Your fingers move out of his once more to trace the tattoos on his face lightly, causing him to lean into your touch; as if he was remembering how it’d feel, to have you touch him.

“How’d you end up here, then?” You ask tentatively, as he moves his hand to rest atop your thigh.

“When I was 22, I realized how fucked up the rest of my life would be, if I didn’t get out,” He answers, shifting his body closer to yours. “so for the last couple of fights — I saved up all of my money, and ran. I ran in the dead of night, and haven’t been back since.”

You don’t stop the watery laugh you release, because in this moment — this moment of Warren being so _open_ and _vulnerable_ with you is something that you feel honored to have been told, because this man sitting in front of you; is the single most bravest man you’ve ever have had the chance to meet.

“I used to be best friends with Alex before I left, and I knew he lived down here. I was a little shocked that he let me stay with him while I cleaned up, but in the end — I found what I loved doing, and that was drawing and tattoos,” Warren proceeds to lift up his knuckles, to show you the ‘Free Bird’ tattoos. “and I got this, because it’s a reminder that I’m _free._ Yeah, I may be a little emotionally scarred, but I’m _free.”_

In this moment, with you looking up at him with tears in your eyes and a happy smile on your face, Warren _wants_ to feel like he’s made the right decision, with him telling you his story — you’re obviously happy and you _didn’t_ run to the hills like he thought you would; but there’s this voice in the back of his mind that’s _eerily_ similar to his father  & Caliban that has been haunting him for the majority of his adult life.

 _You don’t deserve her,_ it chants to him, malice in its tone. _You just opened up yourself to her, and what do you think is going to happen? You think she’s different? She’s just like the_ ** _rest_** _of the people in your life. She’s going to leave you, you_ ** _fucking_** _idiot._

Warren squeezes his eyes shut, and resists the urge to give in to the flight mode that’s sweeping his body, but the voice of his father and Caliban seem to turn into static noise as you lean forwards towards Warren’s face — so close that he can pretty much map out every little detail of your face.

“You’re so, _so_ much braver than you think, Warren.” You whisper fondly to him, soft fingers tracing the tattoo on his cheek.

And there’s a split second where you look down at Warren’s lips and back up to those deep, blue eyes of his — and before you can stop yourself, you move forward a centimeter more and your lips are on his. And just like that, the voice of his father and Caliban turn into muffled static; the only thing that he can hear now is your soft breathing and movement of bodies, as you kiss him.

It’s soft and short and hesitant, so when you pull back you’re both breathing a little harder than usual; before you’re tugging him back down to your lips hurriedly, this time parting your lips so that he can slide his tongue against yours.

Warren doesn’t think he’s ever had this much feelings in a kiss as he does with you. He blames the alcohol, as he cups the back of your thigh to move on top of you; lips moving in a frenzy as you cup his cheek and run your fingers through his unruly mohawk. His breaths are short and hot as the kiss gets heavier and heavier; hands moving to squeeze your sides, eliciting an almost high pitched noise from you. With every movement of your tongue with his and every tug you give — the faster his heart beats, and the quicker he feels a fire grow within him.

But that all stops when you slide your hand in between your bodies to grope his hardened bulge, causing him to groan hotly against your mouth. Your sudden movement snaps him back to the reality of the situation; instilling that fight or flight in him once more, the voice of his father and Caliban returning — like tuning a radio back to a station, after hours of static.

He’s reminded that you’re both not in the right state of mind, and he’s reminded by the voice that _he’s not fucking good enough._ Warren is breathing heavily over your mouth as he realizes this, and as much as he wants you to _keep fucking going —_ Warren just _can’t._

So when he cups your cheek with one hand and pries your hand off his groin with the other, you can’t help but to turn your head to kiss at his fingers; overlapping his hand with yours to bring his pointer finger and middle finger into your mouth, sucking in a way that’s _frantic_ and it makes Warren feel hot all over.

“I _want_ you, Warren,” you whine almost desperately, popping his fingers out of your mouth. “I just… I want… _you.”_

And —

And.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only noise being the soft breaths from the two of you. It’s quiet until his father and Caliban’s voice return to him, whispering and spreading negativity through his mind like fucking poison.

_Not good enough. Not good enough._ **_Never. Fucking. Good. Enough._ **

Warren moves quicker than your mind can process, tearing his body from yours. The weight of his body leaving yours feeling like a part of you just died, and your heart pretty much sinks as you watch him tug on his boots and head towards the door.

“Warren?” You squeak quietly, feeling tears well up at the corners of your eyes.

You watch as he stops at the door, his fist turning white from holding on too hard to the knob. His shoulders are hunched a little and his hair is disheveled as he turns to take one last look at you, teeth biting his lower lip.

“Don’t go,” you say quietly, rising to your feet. “ _please.”_

The silence is acute and you can pretty much _feel_ the tension in the air, as Warren seems to consider his options; and there’s a glimmer of hope in the back of your mind that he _will_ stay — but that dream is dried out when he opens the door, turning one last time to say,

“I’m _sorry,_ but… but… I just _can’t.”_

And before you can even say anything to convince him to stay — he’s gone, the heavy ‘thud’ of his footsteps reverberating through the thin walls of your apartment.

You can’t help but to break down in to tears, back sliding down the door until you’re cradled in front of it — knees tucked to your chest, wondering how in the _hell_ you’re supposed to deal with this.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Needless to say, the morning after the incident is pretty rough for the both of you.

You call Jean and pretty much cry to her for at least thirty minutes; ranting about how Warren probably thinks you’re _easy_ and how he probably regrets spending time with you — and that you have no fucking clue what to do with his leather jacket, that has taken it’s place on your coat rack. (It pains you to walk past it, because you catch a whiff of his cologne. Pathetic.)

Your walk to work is tense, being that you have a pounding headache; partly from the alcohol, and partly from the memory of Warren’s lips on yours. You probably look like a mess but you don’t really care, all that matters now is getting through the day _without_ running in to Warren — or any of the boys, for that matter.

Warren, on the other hand, went home that night and stalked off to his room; even ignoring Alex, who was eager and optimistic to hear about your so called ‘date.’ But by the way Warren grumbled a goodnight and slammed his door shut to his room, Alex knew best to just let him be for a while. Warren appreciates that, about Alex; he knows that when Warren is angry, it’s best to be out of his way.

So the this morning, when Warren rolls out of bed at noon and comes into work with his hand wrapped up — Alex sighs, knowing that there was probably a hole in the wall that they were going to have to fix. Scott peers curiously at Warren’s hand, and then up to Warren’s face; in which small bags under his usually perfect normal skin have formed.

“Dude, did you get into a fight or something?” Scott asks out of curiosity. As Warren sighs, Alex elbows his brother in the ribcage; eliciting a groan of pain from Scott. “Alex, what the hell?!”

“Manners, bro. You don’t see Warren or I butting into your business,” Alex reprimands, giving Warren a sympathetic look.

“No, no,” Warren sighs, sitting down at the front desk with a yawn. “it’s alright. I didn’t get into a fight. I just… got a little angry, that’s all.”

Scott raises his eyebrows in understanding, knowing that Warren and Alex will talk it out. Looking at Warren and then Scott, he knows that it’s probably time to take his leave. Scott just isn’t that close enough with Warren to talk about personal stuff, and he’s smart enough to know when he isn’t needed in a conversation. So Scott just looks down at the watch on his wrist, making it a little obvious.

“Well, if it’s alright with you guys, I think I’ll take an early lunch,” He announces, already standing out of his chair. “give me a ring if it gets busy!”

Warren just lets out a small huff of a laugh, as Alex and him watch Scott leave; already picking up his phone to make a call, presumably to Jean.

The guys just work for a little bit in silence; Alex letting Warren have a little time to gather his thoughts. It really isn’t until an hour later, when Alex is tattooing a client (a usual by the name of Angel), when he decides that he _can’t_ watch Warren check his phone every three minutes.

“Alright man, tell me what happened.” Alex abruptly asks, pulling Warren out of his thoughts. “Watching you check your phone and pace is making _me_ stressed out.”

Warren just lets out a pained laugh as he plops down on a chair, rolling over to where Alex and Angel are. Warren spins the chair around to place his arms on the back of the chair, letting his chin rest on his arms.

“I fucked up last night, Alex.”

Alex’s gaze flickers from the tattoo gun to Warren, who looks as if he might burst out into tears right then and there. (And that intimidates Alex only a _little bit,_ because he’s only seen Warren cry _once._ And it was pretty fucking justified.)

“Does it involve your date from last night?” Alex inquires, keeping the mood as light as possible; his tone as inviting as possible.

“Yeah,” Warren grumbles, shifting his feet. “she’s really amazing, Alex. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as amazing as her, dude.”

“I can see how you see that. She is pretty great,” Alex agrees, wiping off some of the excess blood from the Angel’s back. “so what happened that made big bad Worthington sad?” He jokes, causing Warren to let out a sad laugh.

“I… I told her about my life before everything,” Warren tells him, causing Alex to look at him with slight disbelief. “I told her about Caliban, and all that shit.”

“Shit, man,” Alex huffs out, shaking his head a little bit. “that’s some serious stuff. You’ve only told—“

“You,” Warren finishes his sentence, leaning back to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I know.”

“Well, what did she do?” Alex asks, wanting to know more.

“She… She cried, man!” Warren sighs, moving to stand up. “She told me I was brave. She looked at me like I wasn’t a fuckin’ piece of _shit_!”

Alex is silent for a moment, processing what this could mean to his best friend. Warren isn’t one to let many people in like that, and the fact that the flower shop girl could break down his barriers his a pretty big fucking deal. So as he watches Warren pace, he presses for more information.

“Isn’t that a good thing, though?!” Alex questions.

“Of course it is,” Warren agrees, starting to feel frustrated with himself. “it’s fucking _great!_ She even _kissed_ me, and I kissed her back!”

“Dude! That’s awesome,” Alex exclaims, moving to dip the gun in more ink. “what’s so bad about that?”

Warren plops back down on the chair, the chair rolling slightly backwards at the weight of Warren’s body.

“Every time something good happens to me, I can hear Caliban and my dad’s —“ Warren stops, gritting his teeth at the thought of the two men. “my _dad’s_ voice. They just _won’t_ shut up. Dude, she even grabbed my… y’know!” Warren rants, motioning to his crotch. Alex can’t help but to snort a little, but quickly returns to the situation at hand. “And as much as I wanted to keep going… I just fucking got up and left like an _asshole!”_

“That _is_ kind of an asshole thing to do,” Angel says, who’s been silent for a remainder of the situation. “but the situation makes it understandable! You should just go explain to the chick what happened. If she really does like you, she’ll understand.”

“I second that,” Alex chimes in, raising a brow at Warren. “and for as long as we’ve known her, she’ll understand. She’s good like that.”

“But that’s what I’m _scared_ of,” Warren argues. “she’s _good_ and _beautiful_ and deserves so much better—“

“Oh my god dude, _stop,”_ Alex cuts in, exasperation in his tone. He sits up Angel to bandage the finished tattoo on her back, as he continues to advise Warren. “ _you_ deserve her. You deserve her in your life, man. You need to realize that you actually deserve good things like her. So put on your big boy pants and text her or _something,_ because I swear to god I will say something to her if you don’t!”

Warren (and even Angel!) look at Alex with stunned facial expressions, surprised at the outburst of supportiveness. Warren is silent for a moment, letting his words process in his mind. Luckily, Angel just let’s out an airy laugh, as she pulls on her shirt, and says,

“ _Shit,_ I would kill to have a wholesome friendship like yours.”

Alex and Warren just chuckle, as Angel hugs the two and pays them; wishing Warren a ‘good luck’ as she takes her leave. Alex watches as Warren pulls out his phone, and as he opens up a new conversation; typing in your name, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Alex, needing to go wash up, pats Warren’s back as he walks in to the back, and says,

“You got this, man. You deserve her.”

And for the first time in years — Warren starts to believe it. He starts to believe that he deserves good things in his life.

* * *

“Maybe he just left because he got nervous!” Jean suggests, trying to comfort you; as you pace around your desk, chewing at your nails. “I mean, if he told you all of _that,_ he probably got nervous that you were judging him or whatever!”

“But I _wasn’t,_ Jean!” You exclaim in frustration, replaying last nights events in your head for the thousandth time. “And I feel like I made that pretty clear! Goddamn, we even made out!”

Kurt raises his brow is surprise, looking over at Jean like he wants to add his input, but backs off. You note this though, and hop onto your desk; crossing your arms across your chest.

“Kurt, what do you think?” You ask, causing him to shift in his seat. “And quit acting so antsy, you’re making me more nervous!”

“I mean… maybe he was just scared,” he says tentatively, scared that he might accidentally hurt your feelings. “maybe he just wanted to take things slow!”

“Pssh, I grabbed his dick!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. Jean coughs out a laugh, as Kurt’s eyes grow wide. “And I can assure you, he was into it!”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Jean laughs, grabbing her stomach as she catches her breath. “but that is _hilarious!”_

“Oh shut up—“ You hiss at Jean, getting ready to vent again, but your sentence is cut off when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out, your mouth instantly dries up when you see Warren’s name.

“Oh _fuck!”_ You gasp out, your reflexes causing you to chuck your phone into Kurt’s lap; causing him to flinch, as he catches it. “He texted me! _Fuck,_ I can’t do this!”

“Calm down, calm down!” Jean comforts, standing to move over to Kurt, who is already unlocking your phone. As you pace around with your fingers in your hair, Jean reads aloud,

“ ** _Can we talk?”_**

“That’s it,” you breath out, with a shaky voice. “it’s over. I can’t face him. He’s gonna yell at me.”

“I swear to god, you need to calm down before I beat your ass,” Jean rolls her eyes, moving to take the phone from Kurt. “now you’re going to—“

You don’t let her finish her sentence, because you’re already snatching your phone from her hands before her thumbs can touch the keyboard. Jean lets out a _hey_ as you shove your phone in your pocket, causing Kurt to stifle a giggle.

“I’m just going to handle this like I handle any other problem!” You announce, fake enthusiasm hidden in the panic. “By just ignoring it until it goes away.”

You nearly let out a scream when you feel your phone vibrate _again,_ causing Jean and Kurt to flinch at your sudden shriek. You grit your teeth as you unlock your phone, seeing that it’s another text from Warren. Even as you read this text out loud to Jean and Kurt, the three little grey dots are already making an appearance.

 _“_ ** _Please,_** _”_ You read aloud, the next text coming in. “ ** _I’m really sorry, can we just talk please?_** _”_

“Okay, you _need_ to talk to him,” Kurt decides, as you shake your head in disagreement. “the poor guy is triple texting you!”

“I agree with Kurt,” Jean agrees, slinging her bag on her shoulder as she stands up. “you need to talk to him. That’s the only way this is going to get better.”

“But—“ you begin to argue, but Kurt cuts you off.

“You are a strong woman who can talk to him,” Kurt encourages as he stands up, rubbing your shoulders with his hands. “don’t doubt yourself.”

You sigh, moving to wrap your arms around Kurt’s neck, Kurt patting your back for comfort.

“I’ll let you guys know what happens,” you say as you pull away from Kurt, Jean giving you an empathetic smile as she hugs you. “sorry that you guys have to put up with my bullshit.”

“Pfft, it’s no problem,” Jean scoffs playfully, as her and Kurt make their way out of your office. “after all, Scott and I are going on a date, and we’re already planning out a double date.”

You laugh for the first time today, flipping her off as the duo takes their leave from your shop.

With an exasperated huff, you plop yourself down onto your chair, examining the texts once more. You throw your phone on your desk and massage your temples, cursing yourself for getting so worked up over this that you’re getting a headache.

 _Whatever,_ you think to yourself. _Maybe if I just ignore it, he’ll leave me alone, and we can put this in the past…_

* * *

As three days come and go, Warren wonders why girls are so goddamn difficult.

He’s texted you probably about thirty times to no avail, and he even _called_ you — leaving a quick voicemail, asking to meet up. Every time he’s seen you walking into your shop, you seem to duck your head behind the bigger plants in the front of your store, hurrying inside before Warren could even call out your name; leaving him frustrated and angry at himself, and the situation.

Alex assures Warren that you’re just scared to talk to him, but that only makes Warren feel _shittier_ because once again, he feels like he’s at fault in the situation. Scott, because he’s been seeing Jean, has given Warren input that you’re pretty much freaking out as much as he is — which makes Warren even _more_ goddamn confused.

“Seriously, if she’s freaking out just as much as I am, _what are we waiting for?!”_ Warren rants, as he cleans some of the tools. “This is getting super fucking annoying, all I want to do is—“

“Kiss her senseless and admit your undying love to her?” Alex adds with a smirk, causing Warren to chuck an ink-stained rag at him.

“ _Apologize_ and hope that we can still be friends.” Warren finishes, causing Alex to chuckle.

“Dude, seriously, at this point you should just march up over there.” Alex suggests. “Don’t chicks dig that? Like that scene in The Notebook?”

“Which part? The ferris wheel scene?”

“No, the one where he’s like ‘ _what do you want’_ and all that shit.” Alex corrects, causing Warren to shake his head with a sigh.

“Well, I’m not Ryan Gosling. I wouldn’t know.” Warren jokes, but quickly returns to a stoic facial expression. Because Alex is his room mate and best friend, he’s really the only one that has seen how this whole mess has actually affected Warren.

He’s constantly checking his phone and spacing out during the work day, and on his break, he seems to hang around outside of the tattoo parlor; in hopes of catching you on your break. It frustrates Alex, because no matter what people say to Warren; he’s always beating himself up over the simplest of things. And Alex — he _knows_ that you’re good for him, and it’s obvious by the information that Scott provides, that you’re still _very much_ into Warren.

“Let me ask you this: What is stopping you?” Alex asks, all trace of playfulness aside.

Warren is quiet for a moment, trying to think of reasons why he _shouldn’t_ confront you; only to come up short.

“I… I don’t know.” He answers softly, furrowing his brows together.

“And _that’s_ all the more reason you should go over there, and get her, Worthington.” Alex motivates, patting him on the back.

“You’re right.” Warren agrees, a sudden burst of confidence flooding his ego. He stands up and smooths out his shirt, with a deep breath. “I’m gonna do it.”

“There’s my boy!” Alex cheers, fisting the air.

As Warren strides towards the door, Alex yells,

“Go get her, tiger!”

He gives Alex a thumbs up, before stepping out on to the sidewalk.

 _I can do this,_ he tells himself. _I can do this._

* * *

With your headphones over your ears and spread sheets scattered on your desk, you don’t really hear the muffled sound of your employee arguing with someone through the door. As you’re mid bite of your salad, the door to your office swings open; causing you to flinch and throw your headphones off. You’re greeted with Warren stomping up to your desk; your employee in close pursuit.

“I-I’m so sorry! He just demanded to see you and I couldn’t—“ She begins to stutter out, as Warren rolls his eyes.

“Give me and the boss a minute, sweetheart.” He says firmly, but he’s already shutting the door in her face; leaving you alone with the guy you’d been pining over.

“What the hell are you doing, Warren?!” You hiss, standing up behind your desk.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He confronts, obvious anger laced in his tone.

“There are more appropriate times to have this conversation!” You argue back, causing him to let out a mock laugh. “I’m in the middle of working!”

“Yeah, we could’ve had this conversation days ago, if you hadn’t been avoiding me!” He yells back, causing you to huff out in frustration.“Well that just doesn’t give you the right to bust in here like a mad man, scaring my employee half to death!”

Warren just huffs out a sigh, running a hand through his mohawk. _Calm down,_ he tells himself, taking a deep breath. _You’re not that angry kid anymore. Calm down._

“Look, I’m _sorry.”_ His apology makes you freeze behind your desk, guilt hitting your gut. “I’m sorry for being an asshole and leaving you. Shit, I wanted to keep going…. but… but…” he stutters, watching you as you move around your desk to prop yourself up against the edge; hands across your chest.

“You just _what?_ I made myself look like an absolute idiot, only for you to just get up and leave with no explanation.” You spit back, as Warren just puts his hands on his hips; pinching the bridge of his nose. “I _never_ do that with people I’m interested in, Warren! And out of all people, I thought _you_ would understand that!”

“Goddamit, I just got _scared,_ okay?!” Warren yells, throwing his arms to his side. “I got scared because I told you all this shit that I haven’t told anyone else before! You think you’re the only one who feels like an idiot? I _wanted_ to keep going! But Caliban _—“_ Warren pauses, grimacing at the name. “ _Caliban_ and my dad. They’re… they’re just _there.”_ He explains, pointing to his head. “They’re just _there_ all the fucking time and it’s _hard_ to kiss someone you’re attracted to when they’re telling me I’m a fucking piece of shit!”

You’re silent as you cover your mouth with disbelief, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes.

“Warren, I-I thought I made it clear that I _didn’t care_ about your past.” You tell him with a perplexed tone, as he just stops pacing to face you.

“ _I know,_ ” He hisses, as if it was obvious. “but I just feel like a goddamn idiot for letting them control me, when all I wanted to do was just fucking _kiss you_ and make you _feel_ good,” he adds, looking down at you. “and you know what? When I’m with you, their voices are fuckin’ static. You make everything quiet, baby girl,” he chokes out, moving to cup your cheeks with his hands. You sigh in contentment, when his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “and… and I’m just sorry for fucking things up. I’ll leave, if that’s what you want. I’ll leave you alone.”

“ _No,”_ you whisper, shaking your head. “don’t leave me, Warren. Please. _Please.”_

The way you’re looking up at Warren makes him feel lightheaded, and it’s like he can _feel_ the walls he so desperately had built crumble like the Bastille. You make him feel _wanted_ and _loved_ and you make him want to be a better man. So when you let out a watery laugh and stroke the tattoo at his collarbone — _angel —_ he pulls your lips towards his; meeting each other in a desperate kiss that’s probably more chin than lip, but you both don’t care. All that matters is that you’re _his_ and he’s _yours._

You don’t stop him when he hauls you up on to your desk to hunch over you and kiss you more; your hands bunching up the fabric of his stained t-shirt, his hands grasping at your hips. You laugh onto his lips when he pulls away to pepper kisses at your jaw and neck; they’re not in a sexual manner, more of a reminder that you are _here_ and you are _real._

When he pulls back his eyes are a little glossy and his cheeks are pinker than usual, as he cups your cheek with his hand.

“So,” he whispers to you, as you lean into his touch. “how about I take you out on a proper date?”

“I’d like that,” you laugh softly, as you trail your fingers along his arm. “I’d like that a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: kurtwxgners


	4. Chapter 4

Throughout your life, you’ve always wondered why — _how —_ people could become so involved with one another, that it would pain them to be away from one another from more than a day at a time. You always found it a bit ridiculous, if you’re being honest. Like, don’t people want days to themselves without someone else’s presence? Don’t you just want to be able to look and _be_ gross without the judgement from another person? Let alone, that judgement being from someone you’re attracted to!

You always swore you’d never be _that_ person if you had a partner. But in comes a boy with a tattooed face and a kind heart, crashing and burning your presumptions towards those relationships.

The next few months with Warren seem to fly by, and honestly, you begin _understand_ why people can’t go a day without seeing their significant other. A day without seeing Warren, are the days in which the world seems to be against you; whether it being an upset client or spilling coffee on your new shirt. Warren — even his _name_ makes you grin stupidly — he just makes you _better._ As cheesy as that may be, all of your employees have taken note of the extra bounce in your step, and the flustered smiles you give when you look down at your phone.

You’d be stupid if you tried to deny that you were, indeed, falling in love with him. And as luck may have it, you’re almost positive that he might just return those feelings. You’re not sure how early you’re supposed to say those three, daunting words in a relationship — so you do the only logical thing. You tell him through your flowers.

Warren’s apartment has basically become your second home, so Warren doesn’t really object when you start bringing him vases of flowers. You bring him a plethora of flowers ranging from forget-me-nots to tulips, and each time, he smiles wide and inhales them; kissing you as a thank you. Alex _did_ get slightly grumpy when he realized that you weren’t giving him flowers, which resulted in a bouquet of iris’s to be delivered to the tattoo shop. (He didn’t complain, after that!)

“You’ve got it _bad.”_ Your employee, Kitty, laughs one day.

“What do you mean?” You question, concentrating on the bouquet of red roses in front of you.

“Aw, c’mon!” Kitty laughs, pointing to the bouquet of flowers. “The forget-me-nots, the tulips… you’re _in love!”_

“Oh shush,” You jokingly admonish, snipping the ends of the roses. “Can’t a girl catch a break in her own shop?”

“Girl, you’re putting the cherry on top with that bouquet of roses,” Kitty teases. “I mean, a _dozen_ red roses? You might as well just tell him!”

“Keep that talk up, and you’re getting fired.” You joke, shooting her a wink as you put the finishing touches to the bouquet. Scooping up the finished product, along with your purse, you toss the keys to Kitty.

“Lock up for me tonight, will you?” You say with a wink, as she just chuckles.

“Think you guys can adopt me?”

With a wave of your middle finger at Kitty, you step out into the humid streets of New York; thanking the Lord that Warren is only the next shop over. Clutching the bouquet for Warren, the boys nearly light up when you enter the shop; Warren already up and out of his chair, taking three long strides to engulf you in his warm embrace. He dips his head down to capture your lips with his in a quick kiss, smiling fondly down at you.

“Aww, are these for me?” Warren chirps, gesturing towards the flowers.

“Who else would they be for?” You joke, pushing at his chest.

“ME!” Scott shouts from the other side of the room. “I have _yet_ to receive my flowers, and I have to say, I’m pretty disappointed.”

“Oh shut it, Scott, you get free goods from Jean,” You quip, causing Alex to chuckle. “And I’m not just talking about the desserts.”

Scott flushes almost instantly at your comeback, which shuts him up real quick. Alex and Warren just cackle with laughter, as Scott shouts back an insult to you; playfulness obviously intended. You just roll your eyes at him, and return your attention back to your boyfriend.

“Now that the idiot is out of the way, are we still on for dinner tonight?” You joke, gesturing towards Scott, who’s currently trying to wrestle Alex.

“Yeah, definitely,” Warren confirms, taking the bouquet from your hands. “Alex is out for the night, so how about we get some takeout and watch a movie?”

“Damn!” You exclaim dramatically, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You know the way to a girls heart, Worthington.”

Warren chuckles and takes your hand in his free hand, nudging open the door with his shoulder.

“Shall we go, princess?” He wiggles his brows as he says that, causing a laugh to escape your lips.

“Lead the way, handsome!”

Your favorite little go-to diner is only a ten minute walk from both of your shops, so the walk is bearable. The sun has begun to set, illuminating the sky with warm shades of orange and pink; thin, cotton clouds absorbing the glow from the setting sun. You’d never admit it to Warren, but when the warm glow of the sun illuminates his body; he looks practically ethereal, the warm light enhancing the blond curls atop his head. You know Warren doesn’t have much self confidence, and that breaks your heart because _how_ could he not see how beautiful he is?

By the amount of ungodly times you’ve been to this diner, the little old waitress (Her name is Eleanor, and she always refers to the two of you as ‘the young handsome man’ and ‘the cute flower girl’) has been able to recognize the two of you through her thick, wide rimmed glasses. Eleanor is quick to get your ‘usual;’ which consists of two huge burgers, two sides of fries, and an oreo milkshake in a take-home cup. Eleanor is always so happy to see the two of you. In her own words, “ _To be young and in love again, I’d do anything for it!”_

(You both pretend to ignore the heat that rises to your cheeks, and the flustered laugh shared between the two of you.)

When you get back to Warren’s apartment, you’re quick to get the flowers into a vase while he digs in. (He throws a fry or two at you, pouting that you need to eat with him. You just tell him, “ _flowers first, bird boy!”)_

Whilst you’re eating dinner, Warren realizes that there’s something _achingly_ domestic about the way the two of you have been lately. You’re pretty much at his place more often than you’re at yours; Christ, Warren has even been discussing with Alex if he should clean out a drawer for you or not. And the flowers — just looking at them makes Warren’s day brighter. He’s never had anything that makes him so undeniably happy before, and he’s not stupid; he’s in love.

He’s in love with the way you sing off key when you’re doing the dishes, he’s in love with the way you care for his friends, he’s in love with the way you talk too loudly in public and _fuck —_ Warren loves _you._

As he watches you pick up the dishes and lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead, he repeats those three words in his head.

_I love her._

_I love her._

**_I love her._ **

Warren feels his heart burst with color at the revolution, as he leans backwards in his chair; his lips are curved in a fond smile, as he watches the woman he _loves_ hum to one of his favorite songs.

His legs seem to have a mind of their own as he stands and walks over to you; wrapping his arms around your middle. You just lean your weight back into him, tilting your head to look up at him.

“What’s up, bird boy?” You ask with a small laugh, as Warren just smiles down at you.

“Nothin’. Just wanted to hug my lady. I’ll finish these up, you go put in the movie, yeah?”

* * *

Even though you’ve both seen the third Harry Potter more times than you can count, you still end up watching it. (You even make Warren take a quiz to see what house he’s in, and you’re both more than shocked when he gets sorted into Hufflepuff!)

Throughout the movie, whilst you’ve been slipping in and out of sleep, Warren has been thinking about the types of flowers that you have been giving him throughout the past weeks; the forget-me-nots, tulips, gardenia, and today — the red roses. His mind wanders towards your first meeting, and the arrangement of apple blossoms and peonies you gave the boys.

_“Peonies represent prosperity, and apple blossoms represent good fortune,”_ You had said. Warren furrows his brow at the memory, thinking about how flowers mean things. And when the sudden realization hits him, he wonders how he can be so goddamn stupid. 

The red roseswere the icing on the cake.

You love him.

You love him.

You love _him._

His breath slightly hitches at the realization. For the first time in Warren’s life, he has found someone that doesn’t belittle him or hurt him; he’s found someone that loves him for who he is, his flaws and past alike. Warren’s heart has seemed to be growing these past few months, and in all honesty — it’s thanks to you.

As the credits roll, you rouse slightly from sleeping; finding that you had somehow managed to rest your head on Warren’s thighs; his fingers massaging your scalp, as he eyes something on the coffee table. You turn your head slightly to see what he’s looking at, to find it being the flowers on the coffee table. 

“Babe?” He asks quietly, turning his attention towards you.

“Hmm?”

Warren pauses for a moment, as if he was hesitating his words.

“Flowers have meanings, right? Like the flowers you gave Alex and I, when you first met us?” He finally says, the hand in your hair moving to stroke at the exposed skin from your collar. You nod, your heart skipping a beat at his question. His question only confirms, that he’s picked up on what you’ve been trying to say. He gestures towards the roses on the coffee table, and his voice is slightly shaky, but you don’t notice.

“What do those ones mean?”

“They, uh, mean—“ Your breath seems to get caught in your throat, but you know that what you feel is _real,_ and that gives you the confidence to say it out loud. “They mean ‘ _I love you.’”_

Warren is quiet for a second; leading you to think that you may have fucked up. But you’re quickly proven wrong, because faster than you can process — he’s leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. His hand has moved to cup your cheek slightly, pulling back to look at you with a wide smile. If it weren’t for that smile, you’d be sure that he’s close to crying.

“I love you too,” He says, without missing a beat. “I love you so, so much baby.”

You just sit up and situate yourself on his lap; your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands cupping his cheeks. Your nose rubs against his as you smile down at him, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“Say it again,” You whisper, quiet enough for him to hear. 

“I love you,” Warren repeats. “ _I love you,_ baby girl.”

This time — you kiss him. The kiss this time is filled with much more zeal, and with every swipe of his tongue against yours; it sends warmth and color throughout you. His hands roam all over your back and hips; one of his large hands moves to slide against your neck, the other moving to rest on your hip. The feeling of his blunt nails on the back of your neck is enough to make you sigh softly into his mouth, and for your hips to grind themselves subconsciously against Warren. 

Your hand slides down Warren’s shirt as he groans in response to your hips; and when you slide your hand underneath his shirt to dig your nails into his skin, Warren nearly _whines_ and tugs you harder against his lips. His free hand moves to ball up the fabric of your shirt at your hip, his hand trying to guide your hips with his. Everything about your interactions with each other now are sending your heart beating faster than a racer, and you’re positive he feels the same: because when he pulls back from your lips to just look at you — you know in that moment, that you’re ready to take it to the next step.

Warren watches your plump, glossy lips move forward to press a kiss at the base of his neck, kissing softly upwards until you’re just shy of his ear lobe. Warren’s grasping at your sides now, like you’re anchoring him to the present. His breath is clipped as your lips lightly touch his earlobe, your hands gripping his biceps.

“Make love to me,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and it makes Warren breath hotly against your neck. “Make love to me, Warren.”

When you pull back, Warren feels like his chest is about to implode. Never, did he _ever_ think he’d ever get the opportunity to meet someone who loves him without hesitation: yet here you are, in his lap, your heartbeat elevated by his love. So Warren just lurches forward and kisses you, and manages to stutter out _okay_ against your mouth.

What you don’t expect is for Warren to stand; taking you with him. His arms are quick to support your weight, and you’re almost impressed that your lips never seemed to leave his as he navigated to his room. Warren kicks his door shut as he sets you down in the middle of his low lit room, his hands moving to cup your cheeks; tilting your head back, as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His hands trail gingerly across your back, as you softly caress the curls that adorn his head. You smile into the kiss when his large hands keep drifting to the curve of your ass: taking it in his hands, and squeezing lightly — as if he was testing out the waters. You give him an appreciative sigh, confirming that it felt good. He’s quick to pull back to latch his mouth onto your neck, his teeth grazing over the juncture of your neck. You sigh quietly into his neck, followed up with a louder squeak as he bites down: not hard enough to cause pain, but to make a mark. His tongue follows in pursuit to soothe the mark, a snicker escaping his lips.

You’re sure that after a couple more minutes your neck is sure to be covered in hickies, but you don’t really care — because when he finally detaches from your neck with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, you’re sure that he’s the one for you.

“Can… can I take this off?” Warren asks, fingertips anxiously toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Yeah,” you whisper, voice a little more hoarse than usual. “Please.”

He gives you a tiny smile that makes your heart jump, as his lips return to their home on yours. Your eyes flutter shut as Warren backs the two of you up, the backs of your knees hitting the mattress. You take that as your cue to sit down, Warren moving to sit on his knees in front of you. Your heart feels like it’s ramming itself in your ribcage as his calloused hands slide up your sides, taking your shirt with them. He tosses your shirt behind his shoulders, earning a small giggle from you. Warren’s eyes dart down to your chest and back up to your eyes, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You feel heat flood your cheeks as he moves to rise a little: his hand cupping your cheek, as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You can tell that it’s meant to be reassuring: assuring that you’re in good hands.

“Can I take your bra off, baby girl?” He asks, voice low: like it would ruin the moment, if he was too loud. Warren’s constant mindfulness about consent just makes him a thousand times more attractive, and you’re quick to give him the okay. His arms snake around your body, his dexterous fingers unclipping your bra with ease.

If this were anyone else — your nerves would be on edge, being this vulnerable with someone. Your body is far from perfect, but there’s something achingly comforting about Warren. You laugh a little as you notice his eyes drifting to your chest; mouthing a soft ‘wow’ to himself.

“Can I take your shirt off, bird boy?” You lightly joke, tearing his gaze away from your breasts. “I’m starting to feel a little underdressed.”

Warren blushes softly, realizing that you’re more naked than he is. So he just nods his head as he leans forward to kiss you again, as you slide his shirt off his body: revealing his inked torso, and arms. You’ve always been blown away by his tattoos, but seeing them in this intimate moment — sends a wave of heat to your core.

“Lay down for me, yeah?” Warren asks softly.

You steal one last peck before you follow his request, scooting a little upwards on the bed. Your breath hitches when he follows: his lips planting kisses along your collarbones. You shudder when he drops wet kisses along the valley of your breast; lips encircling a nipple, as he lightly sucks. One of your hands flies up to tangle themselves in his unruly hair; the other grasping at the bedsheets underneath you. Warren hums against you in contentment, his free hand moving to knead your other breast. His fingers dance along your hardening nipple as you shudder beneath him, his lips detaching from the valley of your breast to give the other some attention. You can’t help but to grasp his hair a little harder, eliciting a low hum from Warren.

It’s like that’s a trigger for him, because the look in his eye becomes a tad darker. His mouth detaches from your breasts, and your heart nearly skips a beat when he plants wet kisses along your stomach; peppering extra kisses to any stretch marks, moles, and freckles that he can see in the light. The feeling of his lips pressing loving kisses to those imperfections inflates your heart, and causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach. (Not only from Warren’s tenderness, but from what Warren’s intentions are!)

His fingers hook on the loops of your jeans and before you know it they’re off too, and your eyes are fluttering shut as he almost _impatiently_ takes off your panties. He’s quick to litter more kisses to your thighs, moving forward to lay between your legs. You quickly move to accommodate him, as Warren uses this opportunity to hook your legs over his shoulders.

Needless to say, you thought you were prepared for Warren to use his tongue on you; but the moment his mouth licked a thick stripe up your slit, you let out a pathetic gasp.

And for Warren — it’s his turn to lose himself a little.

His eyes flutter shut as his tongue alternates between deep, teasing licks and lapping at your clit. You can feel the slight stubble on his cheeks rub against the apex of your thighs, seemingly intensifying the pleasure. Your hair seemed to fist his curls, as your back arched up and off the bed suddenly. Warren’s earnestly fucking you with his tongue now, his jaw moving up and down quickly as his tongue works against you. The sounds that fill the room are _filthy_ and _hot_ but to you — it’s the main cause of your impending orgasm.

As Warren suddenly removed his tongue from you, you’re about to protest, only to be shut up by his lips sealing themselves around your clit. His forefinger and middle finger suddenly slide into you; causing a helpless moan to spill from your lips. Your heart rate seems to increase as he sucks hard at you, his fingers moving and curling perfectly inside of you.

You both don’t really notice Warren’s hips subconsciously beginning to grind his hips onto the bed; seeking that friction to ease some of the pent-up sexual tension. Warren is too worked up to even care that he’s grinding his hips like a horny teenager, because all he can really focus on is making you feel good.

But when your eyes flutter open as your orgasm creeps up on you; the sight of Warren thrusting his hips into the bed is enough to send you over the edge.

With a pornographic moan, you clench around Warren’s fingers as he holds your hips down, helping you ride out that high. His fingers slow down, as does his lips around your clit.

“So fucking beautiful.” He says, almost to himself, as he watches you from his position.

You’re pretty much out of breath as you feel his fingers slide out of you, and as he presses a chaste kiss underneath your navel. Warren presses a line of kisses up your torso until he’s eye level with you, and as your eyes slowly open, your breath nearly falters when you see the shine of your wetness on his lips.

Warren doesn’t waste time to kiss you: his hand moving to cup your cheek. You wrap your arms around his neck, and tug on the curls at his neck; causing him to pull off, with a small, content smile on his lips. You lean into the hand that’s cupping your cheek, nuzzling into his touch. When you realize that those were the fingers that he was working you with, it seems as an instinct to move those fingers into your mouth; sucking your slickness off of them.

As Warren watches you suck his fingers into your plush lips, Warren’s chest feels like it’s about to fucking _burst._ He’s pretty sure that he’s never been so fucking hard before, and he’s positive that if you keep even _this_ up — he might end up blowing his load in his pants.

“Jesus christ, baby girl,” He huffs out, with a shake of his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I could say the same for you,” You reply, popping his fingers out of his mouth; your thumb rubbing comfortable circles on his wrist. “I don’t think I’ve came that hard before.”

Warren just lets out a breezy laugh, ducking down to kiss you once more. It’s not long before his pants are off, leaving his boxers as the last remaining piece of clothing. From all of your makeout sessions (and spooning sessions) you _know_ that Warren is packing some heat — and you can’t really help yourself, as you reach down between your bodies to grasp his cock.

Warren lets out a broken gasp as you reach into his boxers, your soft hands grasping the base of his cock. His lips drop to the crook of your shoulder to moan hotly there, as you give him solid strokes. Soon Warren kicks off his underwear, and you turn him over gently, so that your legs are astride his hips. One hand is slowly jerking him, whilst the other is ghosting over the ink on his collarbones. His hands are lightly rubbing your hips, as he watches you press kisses to his chest.

From all the fights he’s been in, he has some pretty nasty scars on his chest. He’s always seen them as ugly, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t massively insecure about them. But watching you press your pretty lips against the raised, tattered skin across his abdomen - he can’t help but to accept that part of himself.

As Warren’s eyes flutter shut, he’s _sure_ he’s in heaven — but when your lips reach to brush over the head of his leaking cock; he’s pulled back to reality. He’s now _very_ aware of the faint coil in his stomach, and he knows that he wants to be able to be inside of you, before he blows his load.

So as you’re mouthing at the sides of his cock, Warren leans up agains the headboard, and tangles a hand in your hair.

“Baby, baby,” He says, his voice a little more breathy than he meant. “I’m all for you sucking my dick, but I’m gonna finish if you do that.”

You just laugh a little and press a kiss to the center of his chest.

“I love you, Warren.” You tell him quietly, giving him a small smile.

“I love you too, baby girl,” He whispers back without thought, as he deftly switches positions.

Warren drops his lips to yours once more, as you wrap your legs around his lower back. Your hands are tangled in his hair as he reaches between your bodies to grip his cock, the head nudging your sensitive clit. You let out a low moan against Warren’s lips, your eyes fluttering closed.

“You sure, baby?” He asks, needing that spoken validation that _yes,_ you do want him. “I-I need you to tell me.” “I’m so sure, Warren,” You tell him, without missing a beat. “I want you, I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone.”

Warren knows that you love him, you’ve been telling him through your flowers for weeks now. But hearing those words fall from your lips; your eyes wide with adoration and lust, the raw emotions suddenly feel so much more _real._ Warren moves his free hand to cup your cheek, ducking his head to press a soft kiss to your pliant lips.

You both let out a small groan in unison, as he slides slowly inside of you. Yeah, he’s big, so the initial stretch does hurt a little — but thanks to his deft mouth and fingers, you’re wet enough to take him. Warren has to grit his teeth together because _fuck —_ you’re so _tight_ and _wet_ and _warm_ around him that he’s pretty sure if he moved, he’d cum.

His breath fans out against the crook of your neck, as he attempts to steady his breathing. Your chest is pretty much heaving against his now, your fingers digging into his shoulder. He drops several messy kisses to the juncture of your neck, before lifting his head to rest his forehead against yours.

“A-Are you good?” He asks, voice slightly trembling. “Can I… can I move?”

“Yeah,” You nod quickly, swallowing hard. “ _Please,_ Warren.”

Warren lets out a huff, with somewhat a laugh mixed with it, before he carefully pulls out a little, before thrusting in against one more. He’s a little nervous, because he’s never had sex with someone he’s cared so intensely about — so he wants to try and be gentle; but when your eyes flutter to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack, he can’t help but to get a little cocky.

So as you practically yank his lips down to yours, Warren’s hips seem to have a mind of their own, as they set up a deep, quick pace. Your legs tightened around his hips as he rocked into you, as your lips moved to suck a mark on his jaw. Warren’s jaw goes slack as he feels you suck a mark there, and he lets out a gruff moan mixed with something akin to a laugh; knowing that Alex is going to give him so much shit for that.

With every thrust, Warren draws moans and profanities alike from you. His cock seems to hit that sweet spot of yours with every thrust, sending bursts of color throughout you. Your tongues slide against each other with perfect rhythm, like they were meant for just that. His moans bubble low from his throat and you swallow them with your kisses, every so often letting his teeth catch your lower lip. He growls out something along the lines of _‘fuck that’s hot’_ and ‘ _so fucking perfect.’_

You can’t really help yourself when you wrap your arms under his arms to grip his back, fingernails no doubt leaving red marks along his tattoos. Warren practically _growls_ as you do this, abruptly stopping to lean upwards to grasp your wrists: pinning them beside your head. You let out a mischievous laugh, but you’re shut up quick when his lips are back on yours, giving you a searing kiss as his hips grind deep into yours. Needless to say, with every thrust and groan from Warren, it electrifies your body.

It’s not long before you feel that familiar rush of endorphins again, your stomach sporadically tensing up at your impending orgasm.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” You manage to stutter out against his lips. “Fuck, _fuck_ Warren!”

“I got you, baby,” He hums against your cheek, releasing your wrists from his grip. “M’gonna make you cum.”

As his fingers move between your bodies to rub even, slick circles on your clit, you’re nearly gasping with pleasure — and it only seems to intensify as his free hand moves to run his thumb over your lower lip. You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth and suck on his thumb, letting out a high pitched moan around it. Warren is looking down at you now; and he realizes who goddamn _innocent_ you look with those doe eyes, and plump lips around his thumb.

“ _Fuck,_ baby girl,” He breathes out, his fingers still working your clit. “I love you so fucking much.”

At his words, your brows turn upwards as you _finally_ feel your orgasm wash over you: your skin turning white-hot as you gasp out loudly, his thumb slipping out of your mouth. The way you clench so tightly around his cock makes him shudder against your lips, gasping hotly. Everything seems to slow down, as you whisper words of encouragement against his lips; telling him how badly you want him to cum, and how much you love him.

It doesn’t take long for Warren’s hips to slow to a grinding speed, and his lips to move slowly against yours. He rocks slowly into you, and when you reach around to grasp the curls at the nape of his neck; he lets out an almost high-pitched moan, hips stilling against yours. You can feel his hot cum spurt inside of you, filling you up in the best way possible.

Warren practically collapses on top of you, his lips pressing kisses along your collarbones and shoulders. Everything about this moment is achingly loving, and full of passion that it nearly makes you tear up a little. The noises from the city outside seems to quiet down, as you comfortingly run your fingers through his mohawk, as the two of you catch your breath.

It’s a moment before Warren pulls his softening cock out of you, rolling off of you. Your legs feel like jello, as Warren coaxes you to sit up in his bed. You needn’t say anything, as Warren picks you up bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom. He’s quick to turn on the shower, pulling you both inside of it.

Everything about the shower is quiet and loving, as you just drink up the time you’re spending together. You wash each other’s hair and bodies, occasionally stopping to smile and kiss one another. Afterwards, he wraps a towel around your bodies and fetches you some of his clean clothes to wear, and Warren is almost positive that you’ve never looked better than you do now: damp hair, and makeup free.

When you finally get tucked into bed, Warren pulls you flush against his side; tangling your legs together.

And as Warren watches you fall asleep next to him, he’s almost positive that he’s never felt happier in his life. With you by his side — he feels better about pretty much _everything._ His looks, his past, his emotions — everything about you makes him _better._

Warren knows, that you’re the one he wants by his side.

For the first time in his life, he’s felt what it’s like to _love_ and _be loved._ And he’s not letting go of that, not for anything this harsh world throws at him.


End file.
